Baywatch fic: Like the Ocean Tide (6/14)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
Matt was ready in less than five minutes.
Fortunately, Mitch was prepared himself this time. He already had their bags packed and ready, with a cooler filled with snacks and drinks. He was just sending off a text to Summer about their plans for the day, when Matt came bounding out of the bathroom.
“I’m ready!” he said, more jubilant than Mitch had seen him. Ever. Adult or child.
“You went to the bathroom?” Mitch asked.
“Yep,” Matt said with a nod.
“And you brushed your teeth?”
Matt bared them, as if that proved his point.
“Sunscreen?”
Matt scowled at that. “Do you have some?”
Mitch dug into a bag, producing it. “Use it generously,” he said, watching as Matt fumbled with the lid, pouring a large helping into his palm.
Matt then applied it to his arms and legs, slathering it on.
“Spread it out, get it even,” Mitch advised. “You’re going to need more.”
Matt was already getting more on his hands.
“Back side too,” Mitch said. “And pay attention to your face.”
With rapid, sloppy motions, Matt covered himself, leaving huge streaks on his nose and cheeks.
“Rub it in, dude,” Mitch said. “Or you’re going to look like some tourist from Iowa.”
“I am from Iowa,” Matt objected, even as he took to rubbing more carefully.
“Sure, but you don’t want to look it,” Mitch said with a touch of playful derision.
“Okay, okay,” Matt said, more perturbed than offended.
“Your ears,” Mitch added.
Matt groaned, getting out more sunblock. When he had covered his ears and the back of his neck, much to his great annoyance, Mitch finally gave him a once-over. The skinny kid could barely keep up his swim trunks. His skin was pale, looking every bit like the Iowa boy Mitch had just advised him to avoid representing. The mop of hair on his head would be in the way within minutes, but there was an eager look in his blue eyes. An excited bounce in his stance.
The kid in front of him was a far cry from the asshole who’d showed up on the bay. Brody was all chiseled abs and bleached blonde hair.
But something in the eyes, something in the demeanor. Something in the way they talked about the water.
It was exactly the same.
Mitch took a breath, and he got himself to smile. “Okay, kid,” he said, taking back the sunscreen and putting in the bag. “Let’s do this thing.”
-o-
The day was perfect.
Of course, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the sand was pristine. The water was comfortable, and the swells were just perfect for easy wading in the shallows. All in all, it was perfect beach conditions.
That wasn’t why the day was perfect, though.
It was perfect because of Matt. He was curious and exuberant. When Mitch spoke, he listened. He was open to learning, and he took to instruction very quickly. They played and laughed, especially when Mitch tried to teach him the basics of volleyball. Working together, they built a sand castle -- a cool one, not a kiddie one -- and Matt cheered when a big wave finally took it out.
They ate lunch outside, sharing sandwiches, chips and bottles of water. Matt squirmed when they had to reapply sunscreen, but he didn’t object. He didn’t curse and moan or complain, not even when Mitch had to remind him to do basic human tasks.
In short, the day wasn’t simply perfect.
It was, quite possibly, the best day either of them had ever had.
-o-
By mid-afternoon, Mitch was ready to lounge, but Matt kept looking out at the water. “How far out can you swim?”
“Me?” Mitch asked, peering at Matt behind his sunglasses.
“Yeah, you,” Matt said. “You’re a lifeguard, right?”
“Yeah,” Mitch said.
“So how far, then?”
Mitch propped himself up on his elbows, squinting out. “Pretty far,” he said.
“Can I swim pretty far?” Matt asked. “I mean, the shallows are cool and all, but I really can swim.”
“I know that,” Mitch said. “But the ocean has its own little tricks. You have to learn them.”
Matt bounced forward, sitting on his knees. “So teach me.”
“Next time, maybe--”
“Now,” Matt said, and it wasn’t so much as a demand as a request. A very enthusiastic request. “You could teach me now.”
Mitch didn’t want to shut him down, but he also wanted to be smart. “We’ve been swimming and playing all morning,” he said. “We’re not in the best condition to go swimming.”
“I feel great, and you’re, like, super strong,” Matt said. “Please?”
There were plenty of reasons to say no, plenty of viable, convincing, reasonable reasons.
But Matt was looking at him like that.
People had told Matt no most of his life.
Today, Mitch would say yes.
“Okay,” Mitch said, groaning as he made a show of getting up. “But just for a little bit, and only if you promise to listen.”
Matt was already on his feet, running out to the waves.
It was all Mitch could do to keep up.
-o-
Having spent most of his life in the ocean, Mitch was comfortable in the waves. But he’d been a lifeguard too long not to understand how easy it was to drown. This made him very well qualified to help a skinny kid from Iowa learn to swim in it.
It also meant he was constantly terrified of what could happen.
Because sure, Mitch knew the ocean. He knew its dangerous currents and its quick ability to drown even a competent swimmer.
Worse, he knew Matt. He knew the kid was overconfident and naive, and he had to keep a firm hand on the kid, pulling him back more than once as he tried to pull away into the waves.
“But I can do it!” Matt protested each time, fighting to get free.
“You’re going too far,” Mitch said. “You don’t want to get swept away.”
“I’m not,” Matt objected. “Just let me try, please?”
“You have to do it the right way,” Mitch instructed. “If you get swept out into that ocean, do you know how you’d get back?”
“Well, you’d save me, right?” Matt asked, utterly plaintive.
“Sure, but if I wasn’t here?”
Matt considered this, more seriously than he probably should have needed to. Finally, he shrugged. “It’d probably be better than the sending me back to Iowa.”
Mitch gave him a stern look. “You think it’s better to die than go back to Iowa?”
Matt’s expression suggested that he thought it might not be such a bad tradeoff.
With a sharp inhale, Mitch didn’t let himself think about that too much. “All the more reason to listen to me,” he coached. “You’ve got to learn how to find the currents and avoid them.”
With surprising focus, Matt nodded, priming himself to swim.
“Okay,” Mitch said, bracing himself against the sand, feet deep in the water as he kept a steady grip on Matt. Even now, Mitch could feel the current, pulling hard against them. Mat had no idea how close he was to slipping away; somehow, it was Mitch’s job to keep him safe, even in the face of his own obliviousness. “Let’s try it again.”
-o-
They went back home after dinner, which Mitch had picked up from a vendor on the beach. He’d eaten a generous helping of rice and chicken himself, and he watched as Matt consumed three hot dogs easily. By the time they trudged back to the house, it was just after seven. While Matt watched up, Mitch unpacked their things, readying a load of laundry for the dirty toils and swimsuits.
When Matt came out, wet hair tousled and skin sand-free, he threw his swimsuit into the washer and helped Mitch pour in the detergent. With the washer running, Mitch found himself grinning. “You want to watch something on TV?”
“Are you sure you don’t have cable?” Matt asked.
Mitch chuckled, nudging the kid toward the living room. “Come on,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find something worth watching.”
-o-
At first, Matt was restless. Apparently, being forced to watch an entire program was not something he was accustomed to, although he did somehow know the words to all the popular commercials after only three days.
After surfing for something worth watching, Mitch settled on a baseball game. Matt found this strange at first, but the slow pace of the game proved to be the perfect background noise. By 8:30, Matt was starting to drift off, his head drooping down even as his favorite commercials played. At 9, Matt was entirely slumped against him, his warm body finally surrendering to the day’s activities.
Mitch knew he would have to wake the kid up to get him in bed, but that wasn’t why he hesitated. He found it strangely comforting -- and strangely comfortable -- to be here like this. For once, all the barriers between them had been breached. For once, it was just the two of them, in perfect harmony.
When Mitch finally did rouse Matt at 9:30, the kid blinked sleepily, allowing himself to be stood up and walked back to the bedroom. He was compliant when Mitch gave him his toothbrush, and he didn’t sound a single complaint when Mitch finally tucked him between the sheets of the cot.
He was already asleep when Mitch turned out the lights and closed the door.
The perfect end to the perfect day.
-o-
On the back porch, Mitch took out his phone. He made a few quick texts to Summer before settling himself on the lounge to call Stephanie.
She sounded worried when he called, and it was all he could do to promise her that everything was fine. “Are you sure, though?” she asked. “It’s been three days.”
Three days.
Shit.
It felt like a lifetime.
“Tell you what,” Mitch conceded. “I’m really feeling a lot better, but it’s Brody, okay. He’s not going to admit it, because you know how he is, but he needs someone here to look out for him.”
“Well, what about Summer?” Stephanie asked.
“She’s been helping a little,” he said. “So maybe I’ll get away for a few hours in the afternoon. Help you out with the paperwork.”
Stephanie sighed. “It is backing up,” she admitted. “This place just isn’t the same without you.”
“I know,” he said, and he tried to remember what it felt like, standing guard in tower one. Watching over the water like it was his singular domain. Three days, and he felt like an entirely different person. “And you know how I feel about Baywatch.”
“Which is why I don’t get it,” she said. “I mean, how bad off is Brody?”
Mitch swallowed through the thickness that was rising in his throat. He glanced back at the house. “You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you he needs me more right now.”
“More than the bay?” Stephanie asked, clearly skeptical.
“Yeah,” Mitch said, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “More than just about anything.”
Stephanie was quiet for a moment. “I hope he knows how lucky he is,” she said.
“Nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you,” Mitch assured her.
“Maybe,” she said. “But none of us would need it.”
That was true, maybe. Maybe that was why it was all the more important that Mitch do it. “I’ll be by in the afternoon,” Mitch said, changing the subject.
Stephanie let out a long, audible breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
Mitch hung up, looking at his phone for a moment.
This was temporary, he reminded himself. This whole thing with Matt, it had to be temporary.
Putting the phone aside, he laid back, looking up at the sky. The stars were out tonight, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to make a wish.
The truth was, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to wish for.
The perfect day.
A temporary arrangement.
How did those two things parse? How could Mitch reconcile them at all? Would Mitch be able to sacrifice one for the other? What would he do if he had to make a choice?
And was it crazy that tonight, maybe just a little, he didn’t want to let Matt go?
Maybe a lot?
He fell asleep still thinking about it, watching as the night sky faded to black and his dreams took hold.
-o-
Mitch’s answer in the morning was clear.
As clear as Mrs. Flores clucking her tongue in her housecoat.
Mitch groaned. After four days of this, it was hardly a surprise. It was, however, becoming increasingly hard to be polite about it.
Squeezing his eyes shut against the morning, he breathed deeply for a moment. Then, without opening his eyes, he said, “Good morning, Mrs. Flores.”
She said nothing, but Mitch could feel her staring as her little dog yapped.
He got up, mustering up something resembling a smile. The day was drearier than before, with a low cloud cover coming up from the beach. “Nice weather we’ve been having,” he said. “Looks like it may rain today, though.”
“This does seem to be a peculiar way of enjoying it,” she said.
“You should try it,” Mitch said. “When it’s not raining, of course.”
She looked scandalized. “Is that a proposition?”
“It’s just a comment,” he said, rubbing a hand over his weary face. In the distance, he could see the way the clouds hung down over the water, suggesting that it was raining a few miles out.
“You know, I ought to call the cops on you,” she said.
“For enjoying my own backyard?” Mitch asked.
“Indecent exposure,” she seethed.
“Would it help if I wore a sweatshirt?” he asked, helpfully unhelpful.
She was still aghast, and now she was pissed off. “I’ve got my eye on you, Buchannon,” she warned, waggling a crooked finger at him. “You best watch yourself!”
“Well, not much need,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Not when you’re doing such a good job doing it for me.”
Appalled, she made a abrupt noise and turned around, carting her little dog back inside in a huff.
Great, now he had Stephanie and Mrs. Flores to worry about.
Not to mention Matt.
And shit, what about Brody?
Mitch took another breath of fresh air and got to his feet.
One thing at a time, he coached himself as he went inside to check to see who was sleeping in his spare room. It was impossible to say what surprises the day would hold.
-o-
He was quiet coming inside, hoping for another easy morning like yesterday. He wasn’t quite quiet enough, however. As he made his way through the kitchen, he heard the spare room door squeak almost expectantly before small feet started across the floor.
When Matt popped into the kitchen, looking eager and hopeful, it was hard not to smile.
Even if he was a little disappointed.
He just couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger: disappointment or relief.
With Matt there, however, it hardly made a difference. Mitch wouldn’t have time to contemplate his ambiguous feelings at all, not when the kid was clearly ready to go.
“Can we go to the beach again?” he asked, just barely restraining himself from jumping up and down. “Can we?”
Naturally, Mitch would have liked to say yes. Even if he had the energy, he would have had to consider the concept of giving a kid too much too fast. Did he need to give Matt those kind of limitations? Did it matter if they were actively trying to get Brody back? Would it matter if they had Matt forever? Should he risk spoiling the kid? Or should he risk alienating him by denying him his interests?
Ultimately, however, Mitch was mildly relieved that it wasn’t his decision to make this time.
“Sorry, bud,” Mitch said. He nodded toward the window, where the wind was starting to pick up. “Weather’s not going to be good today.”
Matt followed his gaze, and he saw the darkened sky for himself. His entire expression fell with a crushing quickness. The exuberance faded instantly, almost like it’d never been there at all.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun,” Mitch cajoled.
Wholly unconvinced, Mitch’s enthusiasm did not inspire any similar feelings in Matt. “Like what?”
“Lots of things,” Mitch said. “It’s cool to have favorite things, but you have to diversify.”
Matt was looking increasingly skeptical.
“You need to keep yourself well rounded,” Mitch told him.
Matt frowned at him. “I really don’t know what that means.”
Mitch managed to not roll his eyes. “It means just what I said earlier,” he said. “You have to learn to like other things. If you only have one thing in your life, you’ll fall apart too quickly.”
Just like an Olympic swimmer would fall apart without the power of gold medals.
Not that Matt had any experience with that.
“But I don’t have other things,” Matt said.
Mitch did his best not to think about his own childhood, the room full of actions figures and lincoln logs. He tried not to think of the stuffed animals, a worn velvet puppy named Maui and a teddy bear he called Gus. He didn’t want to remember the robot he’d begged his mom for, the one he’d gotten when he turned nine, the one packed in a box with fond memories in the very room Matt slept.
Instead, he gave Matt a determined look. “You have two bags full of things,” he said. “I bought them for you two days ago.”
The look on Matt’s face was funny, as though he’d both forgotten and entirely misunderstood. Maybe the shoplifting had tainted that memory, but Mitch had a suspicion that Matt had simply never thought of the items as his. “Oh,” was all the kid managed to say.
“Go on,” Matt said, because sentiment rarely worked with Brody, and Matt didn’t need to be more uncomfortable. “Let’s see what you got.”
This idea did not seem to particularly excite Matt, but it also wasn’t one he could have any fault with. With an odd expression, Matt turned and trotted off back to his room, producing the two bags and bringing them out to Mitch. Awkwardly, he held them out, as if for Mitch to take them.
Mitch refused. “Come on,” he said instead, moving toward the living room. “Show me your stuff.”
Obediently, Matt followed. When Mitch sat down on the couch, Matt set the bags on the coffee table.
“Dump them out,” Mitch said.
Matt still seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to fall, but he dumped each bag out, the contents spilling on the table.
“So?” Mitch asked, when Matt made no further move.
Matt blinked at him, wide eyed and strangely innocent. “So?”
“Pick one,” Mitch said, making a gesture toward the toys. “Show me your favorite.”
Matt found this task even more vexing than the last. His dark brows drew close together, and he looked from Mitch to the toys and back again. When Mitch provided him no further guidance, he reached out almost reluctantly barely touching any of the items. Instead, he tentatively grabbed the one that was closest to him, a Lego set.
Cautiously, he lifted it, meeting Mitch’s gaze as he held it out.
This time, Mitch took a little pity on the kid. He took the Lego set, opening the box with a quick motion. Moving the rest of the items out of the way, he poured the contents of the box onto the coffee table, noting the three bags of bricks, a sheet of stickers and an instruction manual. He picked up the biggest bag of bricks and handed the instructions to Matt. “I’ll get your stuff open,” he said. “You start figuring out what you need.”
Matt took the booklet but looked at it like it may have been in a foreign language.
Mitch had dumped out the contents of the first bag, and he stopped. “You’ve never built a Lego set before,” he concluded with a sigh. “Have you?”
Matt looked embarrassed. “We had bricks at a few places,” he said. “But not, like, sets.”
“Okay,” Mitch said, careful not to show how much this fact seemed distressingly unusual. “Well, you’re a smart kid. Open it up.”
Biting his lip, Matt looked down at the booklet, hesitating before opening it. The little images were visual, providing a step by step process of the build. Even from across the couch, Mitch could tell that the first page showed how to put the minifigures together.
Matt, however, seemed even more uncertain. He shook his head. “I don’t know how.”
No doubt that was true. Matt didn’t know how. What was problematic, however, was that he thought it was too hard for him. Mitch thought of his own mother, teaching him to read. His kind first grade teacher who had helped him conquer the world of early addition. These constant, steady presences had been so important to making Mitch who he was.
Matt had none of that.
Mitch couldn’t do much about it.
But he could do this.
“Don’t stress about it,” he coached, dumping the contents of the second bag onto the table. “Look at the picture. Tell me what you think it means.”
Matt’s face twitched, but he did as told. “It, um, is showing the guys,” he said.
“Yep,” Mitch said. “Look on the top of the page. It shows you what pieces you need. Below it shows you how they go together.”
Matt studied the picture, then he looked down at the bricks on the table. He picked a few out, then he frowned at Mitch.
Bracing himself, Mitch prepared himself for a more thorough step by step explanation.
To his surprise, however, Matt said, “Um, some of the pieces we need. They’re in that bag.”
Mitch looked down at the last bag in his hands, and he found himself smiling. Brody had never struck any of them as the brightest bulb, but he had continued the investigation into Leeds on his own. He had orchestrated the final attack that had found the flakka, freed Chen and ultimately made sure Leeds was brought to justice. And in six months time, he’d become the best damn lifeguard on Mitch’s bay.
He didn’t know a lot of shit, but what was a kid supposed to learn when he was in eleven foster homes in a year? Brody, like Matt, needed time and attention to grow. Most people got that from their parents and teachers.
If Matt had to learn it from a career lifeguard, then so be it.
Mitch tried not to think about how the same was true for Brody.
Instead, he opened the bag, dumping out the contents closer to Matt. “There you go, kid,” he said, grinning as Matt immediately looked for the pieces. “Show me what you got.”
-o-
It took a good hour to finish the set, and at least half that time required a re-evaluation of the instructions to find one tiny piece that Matt had placed backward. Matt nearly gave up several times, but Mitch’s ability to talk him into keeping at it paid off.
They had a fully complete, fully functional LEGO set.
Only when it was done, when Matt was playing with it on the coffee table did Mitch realize what Matt had picked out. Not superheroes, not pirates, not knights.
A boat.
A coast guard boat.
The little mini figure with his yellow head and unmoving smile was at the bow, holding a life preserver.
He looked a bit like Little Mitch.
Only way, way cooler.
-o-
After the LEGO set, Matt tore into the Pokémon cards. He seemed to be grasping the fact that these items were his now, and with that acceptance finally came the enthusiasm one would expect from a kid with new toys.
Mitch didn’t know shit about Pokémon - it all sounded like gibberish to him when Matt talked about evolutions and stage one cards - but the kid was so excited that Mitch couldn’t help but be excited to.
So when they got a random pull Mega Charizard, you better belief they both cheered.
-o-
After nearly two hours, Mitch picked up one of the books they bought. “Captain Underpants, huh? You read it before?”
Matt flipped through his Pokémon deck, barely looking at the book. “Some kids were reading it at my last school. I had it on hold at the library, but placement ended before I could get it.”
Mitch flipped it open, skimming through a couple of pages. It was as much cartoon art as writing, though the paragraphs of prose looked appropriate for a grade school reader. “Want to give it a try?”
This time, Matt didn’t even look up. “Nah, I’m good.”
In some ways, Mitch wanted to let that be. It was a good thing for Matt to enjoy the things they’d bought, and Mitch liked seeing him think of the stuff as his own. But he had a feeling that this deflection wasn’t just that Matt wanted to play with his other toys. He strongly suspected Matt wasn’t much for overt educational pastimes.
True, Matt was eight, and most boys his age probably didn’t get as excited about books as toys. But Mitch had read each and every adventure of the Hardy Boys and he wouldn’t deny that their do-it-yourself approach to solving mysteries didn’t inspire his disregard for jurisdiction today.
Besides, he’d worked with Brody. He had never seen him crack a book, and the only way he’d passed the lifeguard exam was because Summer had been a study buddy with benefits. He remembered Brody’s viral post Olympic interview, in which Brody had confused dyslexia with an ethnicity.
It had been a punchline for the rest of the world. Sitting there with Matt, he had to wonder if the question, and more so Brody’s answer, had some validity.
Because eleven homes. Who knew how many schools? There was no way a kid could keep up, even if he didn’t have any internal learning impediments.
So maybe Mitch wanted to give Matt a little of the personalized tutoring he’d probably never gotten before. Maybe he was just curious whether or not the kid could read at all. In either case, Mitch had resolved not to let this one slide.
“Come on,” Mitch said, giving the kid a nudge from his spot next to him on the couch. “I want to know why this dude fights toilets.”
They had built up enough of a rapport over the last day that Matt looked this time. His expression might be classified as disdain by some, but Mitch discerned the trepidation. “I don’t know,” he said, noncommittal.
Mitch turned back to the first page, holding it in front of Matt. The kid hesitated again, looking nervously at the page. “????” He read. He paused, giving a look of anticipation to Matt.
With a wince, Matt started on the first line. “?????,” he read before stumbling over a word.
Mitch waited a second but when Matt showed no signs of figuring it out, he said, “?????”
Matt continued, with less enthusiasm than before. He only made it another few words before he struggled again. On the third word, he sighed. “I suck at reading,” he admitted miserably. “That’s another thing you should have in the file.”
Mitch determinedly took this admission in stride. “How many schools have you been in this year?”
“It’s summer,” Matt reminded him.
“Last year then,” Mitch said.
Matt shrugged feebly. “I don’t know. Like, five.”
“Okay, so that’s four more than most kids,” Mitch explained. “While you were trying to figure out where to sit and classroom rules, everyone else was learning to read and stuff.”
“I’m just stupid,” Matt said. “Everyone knows it, even if they won’t say it.”
“You’re not,” Mitch told him. “It’s just practice. You haven’t had enough.”
Matt was dubious.
“Think of it like swimming,” Mitch said. “How’d you get good at swimming?”
“The Barnabys took me all the time,” he said.
“Exactly,” Mitch said. “You got practice. You just need to keep at it with reading.”
The appeal was rational, Matt still looked miserable.
“How about this,” Mitch said. “We’ll do it together.”
Matt remained skeptical.
Mitch gently elaborated, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “You read this page, and then I’ll read the next,” he said. He gave a casual little shrug, suggesting that this would be the most natural solution in the world. “We see how far we get.”
“I guess,” Matt said. His tone was begrudging, but they’d had a good morning. Yesterday had been awesome. Mitch had finally established a little bit of credibility with the kid, and he was going to need every ounce of it to make this work.
“Great,” Mitch replied, beaming. “You want to keep going, then? I’m not sure about this Harold character, though. Seems pretty shady.”
“George doesn’t seem any better,” Matt mused. “But we’ve barely read anything.”
“Then you better get started!” Mitch insisted, almost making it seem like it was Matt’s idea.
Brody probably would have seen through this attempt, but Matt was eight. Matt was won over by Lego sets, Pokemon cards and beach days. With a gathered breath, he started again. “?????”
-o-
It took awhile, but they made it through four chapters. True, Mitch had done as much reading as Matt did, but by the end of the four chapters, Matt was still interested and engaged.
His stomach was also growling.
Loudly.
Closing the book, Mitch got to his feet. “We’re going to have to see what happens after lunch,” he said. “I’m starving.”
While Matt had not been miserable through the reading process, he didn’t mind stopping. “Me too,” he said, reaching instinctively for the Pokemon cards again. “Is Summer coming over this afternoon?”
Mitch gave Matt a look over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen. “And here I thought you liked me.”
Matt actually blushed. “I do,” he said. “I just…I like Summer, too.” He quickly hemmed inside in, a trait Brody was exceptionally skilled at. “Besides, you have work or something, right?”
“Work or something,” Mitch said, pulling out a few ingredients from the fridge. “Right.”
Sitting up a little straighter, Matt did his best not to smile or look too interest. “So Summer’s going to babysit?”
“Yeah, kid,” he said, putting a pan on the stove. “She’ll hang out with you for a few hours this afternoon.
With this news confirmed, Matt couldn’t quite hide his smile. “Awesome,” he said. “I mean, that’s cool.”
Mitch rolled his eyes, but when he turned away to grab something out of the pantry, he couldn’t quite hide his smile either.
-o-
Lunch went well, and Matt was even helping clean up the dishes when Summer arrived. This time, Mitch was in such a good mood, that he didn’t resent Matt’s excitement at Summer’s arrival. In fact, he found it kind of cute.
Then he remembered how hard Brody had tried to get Summer to date him, and it still seemed a little weird.
Summer, though, was a natural with him. She had enough boyishness in her demeanor that she related to him well, and the fact that she had boobs meant he would listen to her without complaint. This would be Summer’s chance to spend time with Matt, and it would be Mitch’s chance to finally catch up on some work.
In his mind, Mitch imagined this must be what perfect coparenting looked like.
He had this shit down.
“Okay,” he said, grabbing his keys on the way out of the door. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Summer said. “I’ve got nothing going on tonight.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “We’ll be great.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mitch said. “Still. I’ll be home for dinner.”
Summer smiled at him, waving as he left. Matt beamed right next to her.
Mitch waved at them both, then headed out the door.
-o-
The trip to Baywatch was familiar, but Mitch had to admit, it felt weird going. Had it really only been four days? People waved to him as he parked and made his way to HQ, and it seemed like everyone had missed him profusely. He had to explain a dozen times at least that he’d just been a little under the weather, that he really was fine, that he wasn’t leaving Baywatch, that everything was fine.
The bay, it seemed, had missed Mitch more than he’d missed the bay.
This made him feel slightly guilty. It wasn’t that he hadn’t missed the bay, it was just that he hadn’t really had time to think about it.
Like, at all.
This feeling of guilt, however misplaced, only intensified when he finally got inside HQ.
Everyone fawned over him, and Mitch had to explain to everyone he saw -- literally, everyone -- about things were okay. The constant reassurance worked for them, but it made Mitch start to question his own take on the events.
At his office, he could tell that things were not running as smoothly as he’d hoped. Paperwork was piled up on his desk, and the notes from various staff members was stacked haphazardly in another corner. He leafed through them, surprised by the range of concerns. He had a competent staff, but he’d never considered just how active he was in the decision of everyone on his team.
Mitch, can you order more life preservers? Someone stole three from tower five.
Mitch, I can’t find the right forms for a vehicle request. Is it possible we’re out?
Mitch, I think we need to change the computer passcodes again. Someone is downloading porn, but I don’t think it’s Brody this time.
Ronnie’s concern, no doubt.
Mitch smiled faintly as he sat down at his desk. He’d no sooner picked up the first piece of paperwork when there was a knock at his door.
He looked up in time to see a very eager Stephanie enter.
“You’re here!”
“I’m here!” Mitch rejoined. “Just as promised.”
“And you look good!” she said, moving to one of the seats across from him.
“Do I usually look bad?” Mitch asked, scanning the form that he needed complete.
“No, I just thought, I mean, with four days out,” she said, shaking her head. “I sort of expected you to be dying.”
He gave her a look. “I told you things were fine.”
“That’s just the sort of thing you’d say, though,” she said. “I was going to go check on you, like, five times but Summer talked me out of it.”
“Well, Summer was right,” he said. “I really am fine.”
“So you’ll be coming back then?” she asked, sounding more hopeful than she probably intended.
Mitch hesitated, preoccupying himself with the second form. “Well, I think I may need a few more days.”
“But you look great!” Stephanie exclaimed.
“Brody, though,” Mitch said. “He’s not, um, recovering quite as quickly.”
Stephanie’s countenance fell. “What sort of sickness did you two get anyway?”
“Uh, hard to say,” he said. “But, um, it seems catching. Brody caught it first and gave it to me. So we’re trying to keep it quarantined.”
“But Brody’s still out,” she said. “And Summer’s been visiting all week and she’s fine.”
His mind raced, realizing how poorly crafted his lie was. He was good under pressure, but usually only with the truth. Falsehoods were not his area of expertise. “Well, Brody’s been around Summer the whole time,” he said, faltering somewhat. “So, you know. She’s already been exposed.”
Stephanie thought about this, tipping her head to the side. “And what are the symptoms?”
Mitch looked up at her, formulating the worst symptoms imaginable without suggesting that Brody was, in fact, dying. “Vomiting,” he blurted. “Just. Lots of vomit. Everywhere. It’s super gross.”
Stephanie made an appropriate face. “Have you taken him to the doctor?”
“Yes,” Mitch lied. “That’s who told us to stay put. For a week. At least.”
She regarded him with fresh skepticism. “Are you sure you should be here, then?”
“Oh, me, yeah,” he said. “Um, I’ve been symptom free for a few days now. So, you know. Good to go.”
He gave her a feeble thumbs up that felt as weird as it looked.
If Stephanie was suspicious, she was still too relieved to see him to contemplate it too much. “Well, you need to keep the team safe first, of course,” she said, rallying up a faint smile. “But it sure is good to see you. Even if only for a few hours.”
Mitch was relieved at the turn of the conversation. “And things here?” he asked, flipping through to scan a few more documents.
“Oh, you know,” she said, and this time, Mitch could tell it was Stephanie who was trying to lie. “Not too bad.”
“Lots of incident reports,” he noted.
“More than usual,” she confirmed. “I don’t know what it is about this week. Everything’s just off.”
Mitch chuckled humorlessly. “Tell me about it.”
“Like the stars are misaligned or something,” she said, shaking her head.
That assessment sound far too accurate to Mitch. Coincidence, probably. But this week had taught Mitch that maybe it was time to believe in the impossible. “Look, don’t stress over it,” he said. “I’ll stick around here for a few hours, help you get out from under this mess. We’ll take it one day at a time. We’re a team, right?”
It was the right thing to say; Stephanie was duly heartened. “You’ve trained us well,” she said. “We can manage it a few more days.” She fell silent for a moment, looking at Mitch uncertainly. “But you’re sure you’re okay? You and Brody?”
“You take care of my beach,” Mitch told her. “And I’ll take care of Brody.”
She smiled, getting back to her feet. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Buchannon.”
He watched her go, wondering if she realized that she had the easier end of that deal by far.
-o-
Two hours wasn’t long enough to catch up, but Mitch found he couldn’t bring himself to stay any longer. He had resisted the urge to text Summer every ten minutes for updates. The one picture she sent -- her and Brody playing Uno -- had made his chest ache inexplicably.
He shut down his off surreptitiously, doing his best to avoid Stephanie on his way out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Stephanie. He just didn’t want to have to explain Stephanie that he was leaving so soon and that he wasn’t sure at all when he’d be back.
Staying as polite as possibly, he hurried his way out of the office. He was stopped another dozen times on his way to the car, and he rushed through salutations, updates and reassurances for another five minutes before he finally made it behind the wheel of his car.
Funny, four days ago, work was the only place he really wanted to be.
And now?
All he could think about was home.
Matt, Summer, and, ultimately, home.
-o-
It felt a little like Leave It to Beaver.
That was an exaggeration on many levels. Mitch was no Mr. Cleaver; Summer wasn’t June. Matt might be Beaver, if Beaver had attachment issues and a propensity for swearing.
But that feeling of it. That perfect day, happy family, everyone comes together feeling.
That was the shit he was feeling.
And it was good, good shit.
Pulling into the driveway, he felt inexplicably upbeat. Walking through the front door, heard Summer and Matt laughing. It was, without a doubt, one of the best things he’d ever heard. If all days could be like this….
He stopped himself short in that train of thought, reminding himself that this wasn’t permanent.
It couldn’t be permanent.
Brody was supposed to be an adult.
Not a beaming eight year old, playing UNO with Summer on the couch. He was supposed to walk in on them sharing beers, watching baseball and getting fresh.
The bittersweet reality of it made his heart ache.
“Hey!” Summer said, getting up from the couch to come greet him. “You’re back sooner than I thought!”
Matt bounded up after her. “Summer taught me how to play War. I’m, like, super good.”
“I also told you that it’s not exactly a game of skill,” she said, tousling his hair.
Matt didn’t appear to quite hear her. “But I’m good.”
“Well, at least we can say we worked on your self esteem,” Summer quipped. “Do you think you can go play by yourself for a little bit?”
Matt looked like he was about to whine in protest.
Summer gave him a smile. “I taught you solitaire, remember?”
There was no way Matt was going to say no to her. “But we’ll play more later, right?”
“We’ll see if we have time,” Summer said. “But I’m going to help Mitch with dinner, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, half-skipping back to the couch to shuffle his deck.
Mitch watched him. “Yeah, good to see you too, kid!”
Matt looked up and waved. “Work was good?”
Mitch nodded, moving toward the kitchen. “It was work.”
“Adults always say that,” Matt observed from the couch. “I haven’t figured out if that’s a good or bad thing yet.”
“Job like ours?” Summer asked. “It’s a good thing.”
Matt shrugged, getting back to his game.
Summer followed Mitch, keeping her voice low. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“It was work,” Mitch said, opening the fridge to start getting some food out. “You didn’t tell me how behind things were. I didn’t even make it out onto the beach.”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said. “I know you have more than enough on your plate right now.”
Mitch sighed, settling for a pack of fish. “It was just easy to forget about. How much time was passing.”
“It’s hard to believe it’s only been four days,” Summer agreed, stepping out of the way while Mitch reached into the utensil drawer.
“The weirdest part of it is that it was just work,” Mitch said, laying out the filet knife next to the cutting board. “Work used to be all I thought about, and then I go back in and I realize that it’s been four days.”
“I could take some time if you needed,” Summer offered. “I’m sure we can arrange it.”
But Mitch shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said. “All I could think about when I was there was getting back. I’ve always loved being a part of Baywatch -- I still do. But when I think about Matt…”
He trailed off, and they both looked quietly across the breakfast bar to where Matt was actively engaged in what looked like the most dramatic game of solitaire ever.
Mitch sighed again, opening up the package of fish. “Anyway,” he said. “What about you? Good afternoon?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, probably faster than she intended. She was blushing as she continue with a smile. “It was great. No problems at all.”
This had made him jealous a few days ago, but he’d had a good few days with Matt. It made it easier to share her feelings and not feel jealous or put out. “Funny, isn’t it?” He asked, eyeing Matt across the space. “He really can be fun to have around.”
His admission seemed to come as a relief to her. “Right?” she asked eagerly. “It’s been awesome. Like, really.”
With honed skill, Mitch started to prepare the fish. “I know.”
But Summer shook her head, looking suddenly worried. “I’m not sure you do.”
“I’m around the kid all day, every day,” Mitch reminded her. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
She cast a look toward Matt, her concern deepening. “With Matt, it’s all kids stuff, innocent. We talk and tell stupid kid jokes, and he asked for stories about the beach. It’s cute, actually. Because he’s just this kid I’m watching,” she said. She looked at Mitch, almost guilty. “But I can’t get it out of my head. I had Brody less than a week ago. And we talked and hung out, but we also had, like, really good sex. Maybe the best sex of my life.”
Mitch stared dutifully at the fish’s insides, finding it the more desirable focal point. “I’m not sure I needed to know that.”
Summer gave a small air of exasperation. “That’s not my point.”
“I’m not sure I want to know the point.”
Summer persisted. “The point is, there’s more to him than a hot body and a good lay. Like, a lot more,” she continued. She paused, flattening her lips fretfully. “Sure, I knew that already or I never would have bothered to actually date him, but I don’t think I realized how much more there is to him. Brody shares snippets of himself, but he holds stuff back. I guess we all do, but this isn’t the stuff most of us hold back. This is eleven temp homes in a year. This is moving so much that nothing feels real or permanent.”
Mitch didn’t know what to say. He almost wished she would talk about Brody’s sex life again. He kept at slicing the fish.
She sighed slightly, even more thoughtful. “Matt’s not learned to hide it, not completely yet. I feel drawn to him because Brody’s my boyfriend, but when I’m hanging out with Matt, I completely forget what it was like to have a boyfriend.”
Putting down the knife, Mitch inspected his filleting. He spared Summer a look before casting his eyes across toward Matt. “He’s really fond of you.”
She followed his gaze again, a little wistful this time. “Who?” she asked, before turning her sardonic gaze toward Mitch. “Matt or Brody?”
Mitch looked back to his food preparation, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat. “Both of them, actually,” he said, because Matt idolized Summer in his own way. Brody had idolized her in another. “But with Matt, I don’t know. It’s different.”
On the couch, Matt made a dramatic sound as he playacted some upheaval in his independent game of solitaire. He flailed in mock agony for a moment before collecting the cards to shuffle again. With a forlorn looked, he called over to them. “I ran out of moves!”
Summer was the one who found her voice for him first. “Well, you know what I told you,” she said. “Shuffle the deck and start again.”
Matt followed her instructions, giving a play by play of his action under his breath, as though solitaire had suddenly become a spectator sport.
“It’s a lot different,” Summer said, even quieter than before. “The things he tells me, Mitch.” She paused, shaking her head. “He’s this open book. Anything I ask, anything at all, and he just tells me. Nothing held back, even when it’s weird or hard or embarrassing.”
“I think kids don’t learn to censor themselves,” Mitch commented as he washed off his knife and used soap to clean his hands. “Especially when they trust someone.”
“And doesn’t that make it worse?” she asked. “That he trusts us so much?”
“Well, it’s good,” Mitch said, reaching for the oil to spread it in his skillet. “We need him to trust us for this to work.”
She wet her lips, on a different tact that Mitch was thinking. “But the things we’re finding out -- Brody’s secrets,” she said. “It explains him so much better. It’s like I know him in a whole new way thanks to Matt’s trust.”
Mitch turned up the heat, waiting for the oil to sizzle. “I’ve learned a few things myself.”
“And don’t you wonder if it’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it wrong what we’re doing?”
“We agreed; it’s the safest thing for Matt right now,” he said. “I mean, best case scenario is what? He gets taken away to be studied? Worst case, they think we’re kidnappers and they still take him away. In any of those scenarios, Matt’s alone again.”
“No, I know that,” she said. “I mean, morally. Should we be using Matt to find out the things Brody won’t tell us?”
Mitch frowned at Summer. “If this is about what I said the other day--”
She shook her head quickly. “It’s not,” she said. “I mean, a little maybe, but--”
“I was out of line,” he added swiftly. “I was tired and probably a little jealous. I know you know the difference between Brody and Matt. I know you’re being completely appropriate with the kid. I have zero doubts.”
She was not assuaged. “But you still had a point, in a way,” she said. She lowered her voice again, coming closer as the oil started to fizz. “I’m not sure this is okay, what I’m doing. Not that it’s inappropriate or something, because it’s not, at all, but Brody has the right to his secrets. He does, Mitch. And we’re trying to protect Matt, but I’m not sure we’re actually trying to protect Brody.”
“Protecting Matt is the only way to protect Brody,” Mitch reasoned.
“But we have to look Brody in the eye after this,” she said. “We have to act like everything is normal again when our whole understand of normal will have changed.”
“I agree,” he said. “We need to be careful. But…”
He found that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. The stove was ready, but his fingers were too numb to lift the fish into the pan.
“But what?” Summer prompted him.
With a long, slow exhale, he looked at her. “But what if we never get Brody back?”
He said it calmly, without pretense.
That only seemed to make the declaration that much harder for her to hear. “We have to,” she said quickly. “We have to get Brody back.”
Forcing his fingers to move, he picked up the fish, spreading it into the skillet. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, poking at the meat with his spatula. “I want to get Brody back, and trust me, I’m trying. But that’s my point.”
The oil jumped as the heat intensified; the aroma of fish started to fill the room.
“I don’t know how to get him back,” Mitch said, keeping his voice in rhythm with the sounds of cooking. When he was with Matt, it was easy to avoid these kind of things. The time away brought the truth back into perspective. For a week, they could pull off this strange, double life. Beyond that? Could Mitch give up a full time life at Baywatch? Could Summer live without her boyfriend? Was there any way to make Matt theirs as much as Brody was? “We have to think about what we’re going to do if this is permanent.”
This thought seemed to galvanize her, and Summer’s eyes glinted like steel. “You have to try harder,” she said, voice barely louder than a hiss. “Have you written it all out yet? To make sure you recreate every detail?”
“I’ve done as much as I remember, but you can’t relive an entire night perfectly,” Mitch said. “And I have no way of knowing what variables matter, which ones don’t. For all we know, it’s nothing that I did at all. What if it was something Brody did?”
“What, he went down and got drunk at a crossroads and made a deal?” she asked sarcastically.
“Get him drunk enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d tried it,” Mitch said, moving the fish slightly to center it on the burner.
Summer shook her head, adamant now. “It’s got to be you,” she said. “It happened at your house. You made a wish.”
“Everyone makes wishes,” Mitch said.
“But you made a wish and then you woke up with a kid,” she told him heatedly. “You’re missing something. You have to make the right wish, make it the right way.”
The meat was starting to brown, fat bubbling up in the spread of butter at the bottom of the pan. “I’ve tried.”
“You’ve got to do this, Mitch,” she said, emphatically now. “You have to get him back.”
“I’m trying,” he said, his tone cutting sharply and his voice rising unexpectedly.
From the living room, Matt glanced up, aware for the first time that something might be amiss. Aware of this attention, Mitch pulled his emotions back in, trying to make his face impassive. Next to him, Summer had gone pale and silent.
When he spoke again, his voice was nearly a whisper. He didn’t look at Summer, eyes fixed on dinner as though they were just debating the best way to pan sear a fish. “I really am trying.”
“I know,” she replied, conciliatory now. She sounded sorry, if not for what she’d said, then for everything else. It probably didn’t matter which. “I know that. I just...this is confusing.”
Mitch used a fork, flipping the fish to the other side. Fresh sizzling sounded as the din filled the room. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, wishing that he knew what that meant. Wishing that he knew what he wanted it to mean. “You and me.”
“And Matt,” she added.
Mitch glanced up where Matt was narrating an epic conclusion as he finished piling his kings on top of the queens. He erupting into cheers, falling back into the couch in glee.
“And Matt,” he agreed.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
Matt was ready in less than five minutes.
Fortunately, Mitch was prepared himself this time. He already had their bags packed and ready, with a cooler filled with snacks and drinks. He was just sending off a text to Summer about their plans for the day, when Matt came bounding out of the bathroom.
“I’m ready!” he said, more jubilant than Mitch had seen him. Ever. Adult or child.
“You went to the bathroom?” Mitch asked.
“Yep,” Matt said with a nod.
“And you brushed your teeth?”
Matt bared them, as if that proved his point.
“Sunscreen?”
Matt scowled at that. “Do you have some?”
Mitch dug into a bag, producing it. “Use it generously,” he said, watching as Matt fumbled with the lid, pouring a large helping into his palm.
Matt then applied it to his arms and legs, slathering it on.
“Spread it out, get it even,” Mitch advised. “You’re going to need more.”
Matt was already getting more on his hands.
“Back side too,” Mitch said. “And pay attention to your face.”
With rapid, sloppy motions, Matt covered himself, leaving huge streaks on his nose and cheeks.
“Rub it in, dude,” Mitch said. “Or you’re going to look like some tourist from Iowa.”
“I am from Iowa,” Matt objected, even as he took to rubbing more carefully.
“Sure, but you don’t want to look it,” Mitch said with a touch of playful derision.
“Okay, okay,” Matt said, more perturbed than offended.
“Your ears,” Mitch added.
Matt groaned, getting out more sunblock. When he had covered his ears and the back of his neck, much to his great annoyance, Mitch finally gave him a once-over. The skinny kid could barely keep up his swim trunks. His skin was pale, looking every bit like the Iowa boy Mitch had just advised him to avoid representing. The mop of hair on his head would be in the way within minutes, but there was an eager look in his blue eyes. An excited bounce in his stance.
The kid in front of him was a far cry from the asshole who’d showed up on the bay. Brody was all chiseled abs and bleached blonde hair.
But something in the eyes, something in the demeanor. Something in the way they talked about the water.
It was exactly the same.
Mitch took a breath, and he got himself to smile. “Okay, kid,” he said, taking back the sunscreen and putting in the bag. “Let’s do this thing.”
-o-
The day was perfect.
Of course, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the sand was pristine. The water was comfortable, and the swells were just perfect for easy wading in the shallows. All in all, it was perfect beach conditions.
That wasn’t why the day was perfect, though.
It was perfect because of Matt. He was curious and exuberant. When Mitch spoke, he listened. He was open to learning, and he took to instruction very quickly. They played and laughed, especially when Mitch tried to teach him the basics of volleyball. Working together, they built a sand castle -- a cool one, not a kiddie one -- and Matt cheered when a big wave finally took it out.
They ate lunch outside, sharing sandwiches, chips and bottles of water. Matt squirmed when they had to reapply sunscreen, but he didn’t object. He didn’t curse and moan or complain, not even when Mitch had to remind him to do basic human tasks.
In short, the day wasn’t simply perfect.
It was, quite possibly, the best day either of them had ever had.
-o-
By mid-afternoon, Mitch was ready to lounge, but Matt kept looking out at the water. “How far out can you swim?”
“Me?” Mitch asked, peering at Matt behind his sunglasses.
“Yeah, you,” Matt said. “You’re a lifeguard, right?”
“Yeah,” Mitch said.
“So how far, then?”
Mitch propped himself up on his elbows, squinting out. “Pretty far,” he said.
“Can I swim pretty far?” Matt asked. “I mean, the shallows are cool and all, but I really can swim.”
“I know that,” Mitch said. “But the ocean has its own little tricks. You have to learn them.”
Matt bounced forward, sitting on his knees. “So teach me.”
“Next time, maybe--”
“Now,” Matt said, and it wasn’t so much as a demand as a request. A very enthusiastic request. “You could teach me now.”
Mitch didn’t want to shut him down, but he also wanted to be smart. “We’ve been swimming and playing all morning,” he said. “We’re not in the best condition to go swimming.”
“I feel great, and you’re, like, super strong,” Matt said. “Please?”
There were plenty of reasons to say no, plenty of viable, convincing, reasonable reasons.
But Matt was looking at him like that.
People had told Matt no most of his life.
Today, Mitch would say yes.
“Okay,” Mitch said, groaning as he made a show of getting up. “But just for a little bit, and only if you promise to listen.”
Matt was already on his feet, running out to the waves.
It was all Mitch could do to keep up.
-o-
Having spent most of his life in the ocean, Mitch was comfortable in the waves. But he’d been a lifeguard too long not to understand how easy it was to drown. This made him very well qualified to help a skinny kid from Iowa learn to swim in it.
It also meant he was constantly terrified of what could happen.
Because sure, Mitch knew the ocean. He knew its dangerous currents and its quick ability to drown even a competent swimmer.
Worse, he knew Matt. He knew the kid was overconfident and naive, and he had to keep a firm hand on the kid, pulling him back more than once as he tried to pull away into the waves.
“But I can do it!” Matt protested each time, fighting to get free.
“You’re going too far,” Mitch said. “You don’t want to get swept away.”
“I’m not,” Matt objected. “Just let me try, please?”
“You have to do it the right way,” Mitch instructed. “If you get swept out into that ocean, do you know how you’d get back?”
“Well, you’d save me, right?” Matt asked, utterly plaintive.
“Sure, but if I wasn’t here?”
Matt considered this, more seriously than he probably should have needed to. Finally, he shrugged. “It’d probably be better than the sending me back to Iowa.”
Mitch gave him a stern look. “You think it’s better to die than go back to Iowa?”
Matt’s expression suggested that he thought it might not be such a bad tradeoff.
With a sharp inhale, Mitch didn’t let himself think about that too much. “All the more reason to listen to me,” he coached. “You’ve got to learn how to find the currents and avoid them.”
With surprising focus, Matt nodded, priming himself to swim.
“Okay,” Mitch said, bracing himself against the sand, feet deep in the water as he kept a steady grip on Matt. Even now, Mitch could feel the current, pulling hard against them. Mat had no idea how close he was to slipping away; somehow, it was Mitch’s job to keep him safe, even in the face of his own obliviousness. “Let’s try it again.”
-o-
They went back home after dinner, which Mitch had picked up from a vendor on the beach. He’d eaten a generous helping of rice and chicken himself, and he watched as Matt consumed three hot dogs easily. By the time they trudged back to the house, it was just after seven. While Matt watched up, Mitch unpacked their things, readying a load of laundry for the dirty toils and swimsuits.
When Matt came out, wet hair tousled and skin sand-free, he threw his swimsuit into the washer and helped Mitch pour in the detergent. With the washer running, Mitch found himself grinning. “You want to watch something on TV?”
“Are you sure you don’t have cable?” Matt asked.
Mitch chuckled, nudging the kid toward the living room. “Come on,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find something worth watching.”
-o-
At first, Matt was restless. Apparently, being forced to watch an entire program was not something he was accustomed to, although he did somehow know the words to all the popular commercials after only three days.
After surfing for something worth watching, Mitch settled on a baseball game. Matt found this strange at first, but the slow pace of the game proved to be the perfect background noise. By 8:30, Matt was starting to drift off, his head drooping down even as his favorite commercials played. At 9, Matt was entirely slumped against him, his warm body finally surrendering to the day’s activities.
Mitch knew he would have to wake the kid up to get him in bed, but that wasn’t why he hesitated. He found it strangely comforting -- and strangely comfortable -- to be here like this. For once, all the barriers between them had been breached. For once, it was just the two of them, in perfect harmony.
When Mitch finally did rouse Matt at 9:30, the kid blinked sleepily, allowing himself to be stood up and walked back to the bedroom. He was compliant when Mitch gave him his toothbrush, and he didn’t sound a single complaint when Mitch finally tucked him between the sheets of the cot.
He was already asleep when Mitch turned out the lights and closed the door.
The perfect end to the perfect day.
-o-
On the back porch, Mitch took out his phone. He made a few quick texts to Summer before settling himself on the lounge to call Stephanie.
She sounded worried when he called, and it was all he could do to promise her that everything was fine. “Are you sure, though?” she asked. “It’s been three days.”
Three days.
Shit.
It felt like a lifetime.
“Tell you what,” Mitch conceded. “I’m really feeling a lot better, but it’s Brody, okay. He’s not going to admit it, because you know how he is, but he needs someone here to look out for him.”
“Well, what about Summer?” Stephanie asked.
“She’s been helping a little,” he said. “So maybe I’ll get away for a few hours in the afternoon. Help you out with the paperwork.”
Stephanie sighed. “It is backing up,” she admitted. “This place just isn’t the same without you.”
“I know,” he said, and he tried to remember what it felt like, standing guard in tower one. Watching over the water like it was his singular domain. Three days, and he felt like an entirely different person. “And you know how I feel about Baywatch.”
“Which is why I don’t get it,” she said. “I mean, how bad off is Brody?”
Mitch swallowed through the thickness that was rising in his throat. He glanced back at the house. “You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you he needs me more right now.”
“More than the bay?” Stephanie asked, clearly skeptical.
“Yeah,” Mitch said, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “More than just about anything.”
Stephanie was quiet for a moment. “I hope he knows how lucky he is,” she said.
“Nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you,” Mitch assured her.
“Maybe,” she said. “But none of us would need it.”
That was true, maybe. Maybe that was why it was all the more important that Mitch do it. “I’ll be by in the afternoon,” Mitch said, changing the subject.
Stephanie let out a long, audible breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
Mitch hung up, looking at his phone for a moment.
This was temporary, he reminded himself. This whole thing with Matt, it had to be temporary.
Putting the phone aside, he laid back, looking up at the sky. The stars were out tonight, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to make a wish.
The truth was, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to wish for.
The perfect day.
A temporary arrangement.
How did those two things parse? How could Mitch reconcile them at all? Would Mitch be able to sacrifice one for the other? What would he do if he had to make a choice?
And was it crazy that tonight, maybe just a little, he didn’t want to let Matt go?
Maybe a lot?
He fell asleep still thinking about it, watching as the night sky faded to black and his dreams took hold.
-o-
Mitch’s answer in the morning was clear.
As clear as Mrs. Flores clucking her tongue in her housecoat.
Mitch groaned. After four days of this, it was hardly a surprise. It was, however, becoming increasingly hard to be polite about it.
Squeezing his eyes shut against the morning, he breathed deeply for a moment. Then, without opening his eyes, he said, “Good morning, Mrs. Flores.”
She said nothing, but Mitch could feel her staring as her little dog yapped.
He got up, mustering up something resembling a smile. The day was drearier than before, with a low cloud cover coming up from the beach. “Nice weather we’ve been having,” he said. “Looks like it may rain today, though.”
“This does seem to be a peculiar way of enjoying it,” she said.
“You should try it,” Mitch said. “When it’s not raining, of course.”
She looked scandalized. “Is that a proposition?”
“It’s just a comment,” he said, rubbing a hand over his weary face. In the distance, he could see the way the clouds hung down over the water, suggesting that it was raining a few miles out.
“You know, I ought to call the cops on you,” she said.
“For enjoying my own backyard?” Mitch asked.
“Indecent exposure,” she seethed.
“Would it help if I wore a sweatshirt?” he asked, helpfully unhelpful.
She was still aghast, and now she was pissed off. “I’ve got my eye on you, Buchannon,” she warned, waggling a crooked finger at him. “You best watch yourself!”
“Well, not much need,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Not when you’re doing such a good job doing it for me.”
Appalled, she made a abrupt noise and turned around, carting her little dog back inside in a huff.
Great, now he had Stephanie and Mrs. Flores to worry about.
Not to mention Matt.
And shit, what about Brody?
Mitch took another breath of fresh air and got to his feet.
One thing at a time, he coached himself as he went inside to check to see who was sleeping in his spare room. It was impossible to say what surprises the day would hold.
-o-
He was quiet coming inside, hoping for another easy morning like yesterday. He wasn’t quite quiet enough, however. As he made his way through the kitchen, he heard the spare room door squeak almost expectantly before small feet started across the floor.
When Matt popped into the kitchen, looking eager and hopeful, it was hard not to smile.
Even if he was a little disappointed.
He just couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger: disappointment or relief.
With Matt there, however, it hardly made a difference. Mitch wouldn’t have time to contemplate his ambiguous feelings at all, not when the kid was clearly ready to go.
“Can we go to the beach again?” he asked, just barely restraining himself from jumping up and down. “Can we?”
Naturally, Mitch would have liked to say yes. Even if he had the energy, he would have had to consider the concept of giving a kid too much too fast. Did he need to give Matt those kind of limitations? Did it matter if they were actively trying to get Brody back? Would it matter if they had Matt forever? Should he risk spoiling the kid? Or should he risk alienating him by denying him his interests?
Ultimately, however, Mitch was mildly relieved that it wasn’t his decision to make this time.
“Sorry, bud,” Mitch said. He nodded toward the window, where the wind was starting to pick up. “Weather’s not going to be good today.”
Matt followed his gaze, and he saw the darkened sky for himself. His entire expression fell with a crushing quickness. The exuberance faded instantly, almost like it’d never been there at all.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun,” Mitch cajoled.
Wholly unconvinced, Mitch’s enthusiasm did not inspire any similar feelings in Matt. “Like what?”
“Lots of things,” Mitch said. “It’s cool to have favorite things, but you have to diversify.”
Matt was looking increasingly skeptical.
“You need to keep yourself well rounded,” Mitch told him.
Matt frowned at him. “I really don’t know what that means.”
Mitch managed to not roll his eyes. “It means just what I said earlier,” he said. “You have to learn to like other things. If you only have one thing in your life, you’ll fall apart too quickly.”
Just like an Olympic swimmer would fall apart without the power of gold medals.
Not that Matt had any experience with that.
“But I don’t have other things,” Matt said.
Mitch did his best not to think about his own childhood, the room full of actions figures and lincoln logs. He tried not to think of the stuffed animals, a worn velvet puppy named Maui and a teddy bear he called Gus. He didn’t want to remember the robot he’d begged his mom for, the one he’d gotten when he turned nine, the one packed in a box with fond memories in the very room Matt slept.
Instead, he gave Matt a determined look. “You have two bags full of things,” he said. “I bought them for you two days ago.”
The look on Matt’s face was funny, as though he’d both forgotten and entirely misunderstood. Maybe the shoplifting had tainted that memory, but Mitch had a suspicion that Matt had simply never thought of the items as his. “Oh,” was all the kid managed to say.
“Go on,” Matt said, because sentiment rarely worked with Brody, and Matt didn’t need to be more uncomfortable. “Let’s see what you got.”
This idea did not seem to particularly excite Matt, but it also wasn’t one he could have any fault with. With an odd expression, Matt turned and trotted off back to his room, producing the two bags and bringing them out to Mitch. Awkwardly, he held them out, as if for Mitch to take them.
Mitch refused. “Come on,” he said instead, moving toward the living room. “Show me your stuff.”
Obediently, Matt followed. When Mitch sat down on the couch, Matt set the bags on the coffee table.
“Dump them out,” Mitch said.
Matt still seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to fall, but he dumped each bag out, the contents spilling on the table.
“So?” Mitch asked, when Matt made no further move.
Matt blinked at him, wide eyed and strangely innocent. “So?”
“Pick one,” Mitch said, making a gesture toward the toys. “Show me your favorite.”
Matt found this task even more vexing than the last. His dark brows drew close together, and he looked from Mitch to the toys and back again. When Mitch provided him no further guidance, he reached out almost reluctantly barely touching any of the items. Instead, he tentatively grabbed the one that was closest to him, a Lego set.
Cautiously, he lifted it, meeting Mitch’s gaze as he held it out.
This time, Mitch took a little pity on the kid. He took the Lego set, opening the box with a quick motion. Moving the rest of the items out of the way, he poured the contents of the box onto the coffee table, noting the three bags of bricks, a sheet of stickers and an instruction manual. He picked up the biggest bag of bricks and handed the instructions to Matt. “I’ll get your stuff open,” he said. “You start figuring out what you need.”
Matt took the booklet but looked at it like it may have been in a foreign language.
Mitch had dumped out the contents of the first bag, and he stopped. “You’ve never built a Lego set before,” he concluded with a sigh. “Have you?”
Matt looked embarrassed. “We had bricks at a few places,” he said. “But not, like, sets.”
“Okay,” Mitch said, careful not to show how much this fact seemed distressingly unusual. “Well, you’re a smart kid. Open it up.”
Biting his lip, Matt looked down at the booklet, hesitating before opening it. The little images were visual, providing a step by step process of the build. Even from across the couch, Mitch could tell that the first page showed how to put the minifigures together.
Matt, however, seemed even more uncertain. He shook his head. “I don’t know how.”
No doubt that was true. Matt didn’t know how. What was problematic, however, was that he thought it was too hard for him. Mitch thought of his own mother, teaching him to read. His kind first grade teacher who had helped him conquer the world of early addition. These constant, steady presences had been so important to making Mitch who he was.
Matt had none of that.
Mitch couldn’t do much about it.
But he could do this.
“Don’t stress about it,” he coached, dumping the contents of the second bag onto the table. “Look at the picture. Tell me what you think it means.”
Matt’s face twitched, but he did as told. “It, um, is showing the guys,” he said.
“Yep,” Mitch said. “Look on the top of the page. It shows you what pieces you need. Below it shows you how they go together.”
Matt studied the picture, then he looked down at the bricks on the table. He picked a few out, then he frowned at Mitch.
Bracing himself, Mitch prepared himself for a more thorough step by step explanation.
To his surprise, however, Matt said, “Um, some of the pieces we need. They’re in that bag.”
Mitch looked down at the last bag in his hands, and he found himself smiling. Brody had never struck any of them as the brightest bulb, but he had continued the investigation into Leeds on his own. He had orchestrated the final attack that had found the flakka, freed Chen and ultimately made sure Leeds was brought to justice. And in six months time, he’d become the best damn lifeguard on Mitch’s bay.
He didn’t know a lot of shit, but what was a kid supposed to learn when he was in eleven foster homes in a year? Brody, like Matt, needed time and attention to grow. Most people got that from their parents and teachers.
If Matt had to learn it from a career lifeguard, then so be it.
Mitch tried not to think about how the same was true for Brody.
Instead, he opened the bag, dumping out the contents closer to Matt. “There you go, kid,” he said, grinning as Matt immediately looked for the pieces. “Show me what you got.”
-o-
It took a good hour to finish the set, and at least half that time required a re-evaluation of the instructions to find one tiny piece that Matt had placed backward. Matt nearly gave up several times, but Mitch’s ability to talk him into keeping at it paid off.
They had a fully complete, fully functional LEGO set.
Only when it was done, when Matt was playing with it on the coffee table did Mitch realize what Matt had picked out. Not superheroes, not pirates, not knights.
A boat.
A coast guard boat.
The little mini figure with his yellow head and unmoving smile was at the bow, holding a life preserver.
He looked a bit like Little Mitch.
Only way, way cooler.
-o-
After the LEGO set, Matt tore into the Pokémon cards. He seemed to be grasping the fact that these items were his now, and with that acceptance finally came the enthusiasm one would expect from a kid with new toys.
Mitch didn’t know shit about Pokémon - it all sounded like gibberish to him when Matt talked about evolutions and stage one cards - but the kid was so excited that Mitch couldn’t help but be excited to.
So when they got a random pull Mega Charizard, you better belief they both cheered.
-o-
After nearly two hours, Mitch picked up one of the books they bought. “Captain Underpants, huh? You read it before?”
Matt flipped through his Pokémon deck, barely looking at the book. “Some kids were reading it at my last school. I had it on hold at the library, but placement ended before I could get it.”
Mitch flipped it open, skimming through a couple of pages. It was as much cartoon art as writing, though the paragraphs of prose looked appropriate for a grade school reader. “Want to give it a try?”
This time, Matt didn’t even look up. “Nah, I’m good.”
In some ways, Mitch wanted to let that be. It was a good thing for Matt to enjoy the things they’d bought, and Mitch liked seeing him think of the stuff as his own. But he had a feeling that this deflection wasn’t just that Matt wanted to play with his other toys. He strongly suspected Matt wasn’t much for overt educational pastimes.
True, Matt was eight, and most boys his age probably didn’t get as excited about books as toys. But Mitch had read each and every adventure of the Hardy Boys and he wouldn’t deny that their do-it-yourself approach to solving mysteries didn’t inspire his disregard for jurisdiction today.
Besides, he’d worked with Brody. He had never seen him crack a book, and the only way he’d passed the lifeguard exam was because Summer had been a study buddy with benefits. He remembered Brody’s viral post Olympic interview, in which Brody had confused dyslexia with an ethnicity.
It had been a punchline for the rest of the world. Sitting there with Matt, he had to wonder if the question, and more so Brody’s answer, had some validity.
Because eleven homes. Who knew how many schools? There was no way a kid could keep up, even if he didn’t have any internal learning impediments.
So maybe Mitch wanted to give Matt a little of the personalized tutoring he’d probably never gotten before. Maybe he was just curious whether or not the kid could read at all. In either case, Mitch had resolved not to let this one slide.
“Come on,” Mitch said, giving the kid a nudge from his spot next to him on the couch. “I want to know why this dude fights toilets.”
They had built up enough of a rapport over the last day that Matt looked this time. His expression might be classified as disdain by some, but Mitch discerned the trepidation. “I don’t know,” he said, noncommittal.
Mitch turned back to the first page, holding it in front of Matt. The kid hesitated again, looking nervously at the page. “????” He read. He paused, giving a look of anticipation to Matt.
With a wince, Matt started on the first line. “?????,” he read before stumbling over a word.
Mitch waited a second but when Matt showed no signs of figuring it out, he said, “?????”
Matt continued, with less enthusiasm than before. He only made it another few words before he struggled again. On the third word, he sighed. “I suck at reading,” he admitted miserably. “That’s another thing you should have in the file.”
Mitch determinedly took this admission in stride. “How many schools have you been in this year?”
“It’s summer,” Matt reminded him.
“Last year then,” Mitch said.
Matt shrugged feebly. “I don’t know. Like, five.”
“Okay, so that’s four more than most kids,” Mitch explained. “While you were trying to figure out where to sit and classroom rules, everyone else was learning to read and stuff.”
“I’m just stupid,” Matt said. “Everyone knows it, even if they won’t say it.”
“You’re not,” Mitch told him. “It’s just practice. You haven’t had enough.”
Matt was dubious.
“Think of it like swimming,” Mitch said. “How’d you get good at swimming?”
“The Barnabys took me all the time,” he said.
“Exactly,” Mitch said. “You got practice. You just need to keep at it with reading.”
The appeal was rational, Matt still looked miserable.
“How about this,” Mitch said. “We’ll do it together.”
Matt remained skeptical.
Mitch gently elaborated, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “You read this page, and then I’ll read the next,” he said. He gave a casual little shrug, suggesting that this would be the most natural solution in the world. “We see how far we get.”
“I guess,” Matt said. His tone was begrudging, but they’d had a good morning. Yesterday had been awesome. Mitch had finally established a little bit of credibility with the kid, and he was going to need every ounce of it to make this work.
“Great,” Mitch replied, beaming. “You want to keep going, then? I’m not sure about this Harold character, though. Seems pretty shady.”
“George doesn’t seem any better,” Matt mused. “But we’ve barely read anything.”
“Then you better get started!” Mitch insisted, almost making it seem like it was Matt’s idea.
Brody probably would have seen through this attempt, but Matt was eight. Matt was won over by Lego sets, Pokemon cards and beach days. With a gathered breath, he started again. “?????”
-o-
It took awhile, but they made it through four chapters. True, Mitch had done as much reading as Matt did, but by the end of the four chapters, Matt was still interested and engaged.
His stomach was also growling.
Loudly.
Closing the book, Mitch got to his feet. “We’re going to have to see what happens after lunch,” he said. “I’m starving.”
While Matt had not been miserable through the reading process, he didn’t mind stopping. “Me too,” he said, reaching instinctively for the Pokemon cards again. “Is Summer coming over this afternoon?”
Mitch gave Matt a look over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen. “And here I thought you liked me.”
Matt actually blushed. “I do,” he said. “I just…I like Summer, too.” He quickly hemmed inside in, a trait Brody was exceptionally skilled at. “Besides, you have work or something, right?”
“Work or something,” Mitch said, pulling out a few ingredients from the fridge. “Right.”
Sitting up a little straighter, Matt did his best not to smile or look too interest. “So Summer’s going to babysit?”
“Yeah, kid,” he said, putting a pan on the stove. “She’ll hang out with you for a few hours this afternoon.
With this news confirmed, Matt couldn’t quite hide his smile. “Awesome,” he said. “I mean, that’s cool.”
Mitch rolled his eyes, but when he turned away to grab something out of the pantry, he couldn’t quite hide his smile either.
-o-
Lunch went well, and Matt was even helping clean up the dishes when Summer arrived. This time, Mitch was in such a good mood, that he didn’t resent Matt’s excitement at Summer’s arrival. In fact, he found it kind of cute.
Then he remembered how hard Brody had tried to get Summer to date him, and it still seemed a little weird.
Summer, though, was a natural with him. She had enough boyishness in her demeanor that she related to him well, and the fact that she had boobs meant he would listen to her without complaint. This would be Summer’s chance to spend time with Matt, and it would be Mitch’s chance to finally catch up on some work.
In his mind, Mitch imagined this must be what perfect coparenting looked like.
He had this shit down.
“Okay,” he said, grabbing his keys on the way out of the door. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Summer said. “I’ve got nothing going on tonight.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “We’ll be great.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mitch said. “Still. I’ll be home for dinner.”
Summer smiled at him, waving as he left. Matt beamed right next to her.
Mitch waved at them both, then headed out the door.
-o-
The trip to Baywatch was familiar, but Mitch had to admit, it felt weird going. Had it really only been four days? People waved to him as he parked and made his way to HQ, and it seemed like everyone had missed him profusely. He had to explain a dozen times at least that he’d just been a little under the weather, that he really was fine, that he wasn’t leaving Baywatch, that everything was fine.
The bay, it seemed, had missed Mitch more than he’d missed the bay.
This made him feel slightly guilty. It wasn’t that he hadn’t missed the bay, it was just that he hadn’t really had time to think about it.
Like, at all.
This feeling of guilt, however misplaced, only intensified when he finally got inside HQ.
Everyone fawned over him, and Mitch had to explain to everyone he saw -- literally, everyone -- about things were okay. The constant reassurance worked for them, but it made Mitch start to question his own take on the events.
At his office, he could tell that things were not running as smoothly as he’d hoped. Paperwork was piled up on his desk, and the notes from various staff members was stacked haphazardly in another corner. He leafed through them, surprised by the range of concerns. He had a competent staff, but he’d never considered just how active he was in the decision of everyone on his team.
Mitch, can you order more life preservers? Someone stole three from tower five.
Mitch, I can’t find the right forms for a vehicle request. Is it possible we’re out?
Mitch, I think we need to change the computer passcodes again. Someone is downloading porn, but I don’t think it’s Brody this time.
Ronnie’s concern, no doubt.
Mitch smiled faintly as he sat down at his desk. He’d no sooner picked up the first piece of paperwork when there was a knock at his door.
He looked up in time to see a very eager Stephanie enter.
“You’re here!”
“I’m here!” Mitch rejoined. “Just as promised.”
“And you look good!” she said, moving to one of the seats across from him.
“Do I usually look bad?” Mitch asked, scanning the form that he needed complete.
“No, I just thought, I mean, with four days out,” she said, shaking her head. “I sort of expected you to be dying.”
He gave her a look. “I told you things were fine.”
“That’s just the sort of thing you’d say, though,” she said. “I was going to go check on you, like, five times but Summer talked me out of it.”
“Well, Summer was right,” he said. “I really am fine.”
“So you’ll be coming back then?” she asked, sounding more hopeful than she probably intended.
Mitch hesitated, preoccupying himself with the second form. “Well, I think I may need a few more days.”
“But you look great!” Stephanie exclaimed.
“Brody, though,” Mitch said. “He’s not, um, recovering quite as quickly.”
Stephanie’s countenance fell. “What sort of sickness did you two get anyway?”
“Uh, hard to say,” he said. “But, um, it seems catching. Brody caught it first and gave it to me. So we’re trying to keep it quarantined.”
“But Brody’s still out,” she said. “And Summer’s been visiting all week and she’s fine.”
His mind raced, realizing how poorly crafted his lie was. He was good under pressure, but usually only with the truth. Falsehoods were not his area of expertise. “Well, Brody’s been around Summer the whole time,” he said, faltering somewhat. “So, you know. She’s already been exposed.”
Stephanie thought about this, tipping her head to the side. “And what are the symptoms?”
Mitch looked up at her, formulating the worst symptoms imaginable without suggesting that Brody was, in fact, dying. “Vomiting,” he blurted. “Just. Lots of vomit. Everywhere. It’s super gross.”
Stephanie made an appropriate face. “Have you taken him to the doctor?”
“Yes,” Mitch lied. “That’s who told us to stay put. For a week. At least.”
She regarded him with fresh skepticism. “Are you sure you should be here, then?”
“Oh, me, yeah,” he said. “Um, I’ve been symptom free for a few days now. So, you know. Good to go.”
He gave her a feeble thumbs up that felt as weird as it looked.
If Stephanie was suspicious, she was still too relieved to see him to contemplate it too much. “Well, you need to keep the team safe first, of course,” she said, rallying up a faint smile. “But it sure is good to see you. Even if only for a few hours.”
Mitch was relieved at the turn of the conversation. “And things here?” he asked, flipping through to scan a few more documents.
“Oh, you know,” she said, and this time, Mitch could tell it was Stephanie who was trying to lie. “Not too bad.”
“Lots of incident reports,” he noted.
“More than usual,” she confirmed. “I don’t know what it is about this week. Everything’s just off.”
Mitch chuckled humorlessly. “Tell me about it.”
“Like the stars are misaligned or something,” she said, shaking her head.
That assessment sound far too accurate to Mitch. Coincidence, probably. But this week had taught Mitch that maybe it was time to believe in the impossible. “Look, don’t stress over it,” he said. “I’ll stick around here for a few hours, help you get out from under this mess. We’ll take it one day at a time. We’re a team, right?”
It was the right thing to say; Stephanie was duly heartened. “You’ve trained us well,” she said. “We can manage it a few more days.” She fell silent for a moment, looking at Mitch uncertainly. “But you’re sure you’re okay? You and Brody?”
“You take care of my beach,” Mitch told her. “And I’ll take care of Brody.”
She smiled, getting back to her feet. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Buchannon.”
He watched her go, wondering if she realized that she had the easier end of that deal by far.
-o-
Two hours wasn’t long enough to catch up, but Mitch found he couldn’t bring himself to stay any longer. He had resisted the urge to text Summer every ten minutes for updates. The one picture she sent -- her and Brody playing Uno -- had made his chest ache inexplicably.
He shut down his off surreptitiously, doing his best to avoid Stephanie on his way out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Stephanie. He just didn’t want to have to explain Stephanie that he was leaving so soon and that he wasn’t sure at all when he’d be back.
Staying as polite as possibly, he hurried his way out of the office. He was stopped another dozen times on his way to the car, and he rushed through salutations, updates and reassurances for another five minutes before he finally made it behind the wheel of his car.
Funny, four days ago, work was the only place he really wanted to be.
And now?
All he could think about was home.
Matt, Summer, and, ultimately, home.
-o-
It felt a little like Leave It to Beaver.
That was an exaggeration on many levels. Mitch was no Mr. Cleaver; Summer wasn’t June. Matt might be Beaver, if Beaver had attachment issues and a propensity for swearing.
But that feeling of it. That perfect day, happy family, everyone comes together feeling.
That was the shit he was feeling.
And it was good, good shit.
Pulling into the driveway, he felt inexplicably upbeat. Walking through the front door, heard Summer and Matt laughing. It was, without a doubt, one of the best things he’d ever heard. If all days could be like this….
He stopped himself short in that train of thought, reminding himself that this wasn’t permanent.
It couldn’t be permanent.
Brody was supposed to be an adult.
Not a beaming eight year old, playing UNO with Summer on the couch. He was supposed to walk in on them sharing beers, watching baseball and getting fresh.
The bittersweet reality of it made his heart ache.
“Hey!” Summer said, getting up from the couch to come greet him. “You’re back sooner than I thought!”
Matt bounded up after her. “Summer taught me how to play War. I’m, like, super good.”
“I also told you that it’s not exactly a game of skill,” she said, tousling his hair.
Matt didn’t appear to quite hear her. “But I’m good.”
“Well, at least we can say we worked on your self esteem,” Summer quipped. “Do you think you can go play by yourself for a little bit?”
Matt looked like he was about to whine in protest.
Summer gave him a smile. “I taught you solitaire, remember?”
There was no way Matt was going to say no to her. “But we’ll play more later, right?”
“We’ll see if we have time,” Summer said. “But I’m going to help Mitch with dinner, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, half-skipping back to the couch to shuffle his deck.
Mitch watched him. “Yeah, good to see you too, kid!”
Matt looked up and waved. “Work was good?”
Mitch nodded, moving toward the kitchen. “It was work.”
“Adults always say that,” Matt observed from the couch. “I haven’t figured out if that’s a good or bad thing yet.”
“Job like ours?” Summer asked. “It’s a good thing.”
Matt shrugged, getting back to his game.
Summer followed Mitch, keeping her voice low. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“It was work,” Mitch said, opening the fridge to start getting some food out. “You didn’t tell me how behind things were. I didn’t even make it out onto the beach.”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said. “I know you have more than enough on your plate right now.”
Mitch sighed, settling for a pack of fish. “It was just easy to forget about. How much time was passing.”
“It’s hard to believe it’s only been four days,” Summer agreed, stepping out of the way while Mitch reached into the utensil drawer.
“The weirdest part of it is that it was just work,” Mitch said, laying out the filet knife next to the cutting board. “Work used to be all I thought about, and then I go back in and I realize that it’s been four days.”
“I could take some time if you needed,” Summer offered. “I’m sure we can arrange it.”
But Mitch shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said. “All I could think about when I was there was getting back. I’ve always loved being a part of Baywatch -- I still do. But when I think about Matt…”
He trailed off, and they both looked quietly across the breakfast bar to where Matt was actively engaged in what looked like the most dramatic game of solitaire ever.
Mitch sighed again, opening up the package of fish. “Anyway,” he said. “What about you? Good afternoon?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, probably faster than she intended. She was blushing as she continue with a smile. “It was great. No problems at all.”
This had made him jealous a few days ago, but he’d had a good few days with Matt. It made it easier to share her feelings and not feel jealous or put out. “Funny, isn’t it?” He asked, eyeing Matt across the space. “He really can be fun to have around.”
His admission seemed to come as a relief to her. “Right?” she asked eagerly. “It’s been awesome. Like, really.”
With honed skill, Mitch started to prepare the fish. “I know.”
But Summer shook her head, looking suddenly worried. “I’m not sure you do.”
“I’m around the kid all day, every day,” Mitch reminded her. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
She cast a look toward Matt, her concern deepening. “With Matt, it’s all kids stuff, innocent. We talk and tell stupid kid jokes, and he asked for stories about the beach. It’s cute, actually. Because he’s just this kid I’m watching,” she said. She looked at Mitch, almost guilty. “But I can’t get it out of my head. I had Brody less than a week ago. And we talked and hung out, but we also had, like, really good sex. Maybe the best sex of my life.”
Mitch stared dutifully at the fish’s insides, finding it the more desirable focal point. “I’m not sure I needed to know that.”
Summer gave a small air of exasperation. “That’s not my point.”
“I’m not sure I want to know the point.”
Summer persisted. “The point is, there’s more to him than a hot body and a good lay. Like, a lot more,” she continued. She paused, flattening her lips fretfully. “Sure, I knew that already or I never would have bothered to actually date him, but I don’t think I realized how much more there is to him. Brody shares snippets of himself, but he holds stuff back. I guess we all do, but this isn’t the stuff most of us hold back. This is eleven temp homes in a year. This is moving so much that nothing feels real or permanent.”
Mitch didn’t know what to say. He almost wished she would talk about Brody’s sex life again. He kept at slicing the fish.
She sighed slightly, even more thoughtful. “Matt’s not learned to hide it, not completely yet. I feel drawn to him because Brody’s my boyfriend, but when I’m hanging out with Matt, I completely forget what it was like to have a boyfriend.”
Putting down the knife, Mitch inspected his filleting. He spared Summer a look before casting his eyes across toward Matt. “He’s really fond of you.”
She followed his gaze again, a little wistful this time. “Who?” she asked, before turning her sardonic gaze toward Mitch. “Matt or Brody?”
Mitch looked back to his food preparation, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat. “Both of them, actually,” he said, because Matt idolized Summer in his own way. Brody had idolized her in another. “But with Matt, I don’t know. It’s different.”
On the couch, Matt made a dramatic sound as he playacted some upheaval in his independent game of solitaire. He flailed in mock agony for a moment before collecting the cards to shuffle again. With a forlorn looked, he called over to them. “I ran out of moves!”
Summer was the one who found her voice for him first. “Well, you know what I told you,” she said. “Shuffle the deck and start again.”
Matt followed her instructions, giving a play by play of his action under his breath, as though solitaire had suddenly become a spectator sport.
“It’s a lot different,” Summer said, even quieter than before. “The things he tells me, Mitch.” She paused, shaking her head. “He’s this open book. Anything I ask, anything at all, and he just tells me. Nothing held back, even when it’s weird or hard or embarrassing.”
“I think kids don’t learn to censor themselves,” Mitch commented as he washed off his knife and used soap to clean his hands. “Especially when they trust someone.”
“And doesn’t that make it worse?” she asked. “That he trusts us so much?”
“Well, it’s good,” Mitch said, reaching for the oil to spread it in his skillet. “We need him to trust us for this to work.”
She wet her lips, on a different tact that Mitch was thinking. “But the things we’re finding out -- Brody’s secrets,” she said. “It explains him so much better. It’s like I know him in a whole new way thanks to Matt’s trust.”
Mitch turned up the heat, waiting for the oil to sizzle. “I’ve learned a few things myself.”
“And don’t you wonder if it’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it wrong what we’re doing?”
“We agreed; it’s the safest thing for Matt right now,” he said. “I mean, best case scenario is what? He gets taken away to be studied? Worst case, they think we’re kidnappers and they still take him away. In any of those scenarios, Matt’s alone again.”
“No, I know that,” she said. “I mean, morally. Should we be using Matt to find out the things Brody won’t tell us?”
Mitch frowned at Summer. “If this is about what I said the other day--”
She shook her head quickly. “It’s not,” she said. “I mean, a little maybe, but--”
“I was out of line,” he added swiftly. “I was tired and probably a little jealous. I know you know the difference between Brody and Matt. I know you’re being completely appropriate with the kid. I have zero doubts.”
She was not assuaged. “But you still had a point, in a way,” she said. She lowered her voice again, coming closer as the oil started to fizz. “I’m not sure this is okay, what I’m doing. Not that it’s inappropriate or something, because it’s not, at all, but Brody has the right to his secrets. He does, Mitch. And we’re trying to protect Matt, but I’m not sure we’re actually trying to protect Brody.”
“Protecting Matt is the only way to protect Brody,” Mitch reasoned.
“But we have to look Brody in the eye after this,” she said. “We have to act like everything is normal again when our whole understand of normal will have changed.”
“I agree,” he said. “We need to be careful. But…”
He found that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. The stove was ready, but his fingers were too numb to lift the fish into the pan.
“But what?” Summer prompted him.
With a long, slow exhale, he looked at her. “But what if we never get Brody back?”
He said it calmly, without pretense.
That only seemed to make the declaration that much harder for her to hear. “We have to,” she said quickly. “We have to get Brody back.”
Forcing his fingers to move, he picked up the fish, spreading it into the skillet. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, poking at the meat with his spatula. “I want to get Brody back, and trust me, I’m trying. But that’s my point.”
The oil jumped as the heat intensified; the aroma of fish started to fill the room.
“I don’t know how to get him back,” Mitch said, keeping his voice in rhythm with the sounds of cooking. When he was with Matt, it was easy to avoid these kind of things. The time away brought the truth back into perspective. For a week, they could pull off this strange, double life. Beyond that? Could Mitch give up a full time life at Baywatch? Could Summer live without her boyfriend? Was there any way to make Matt theirs as much as Brody was? “We have to think about what we’re going to do if this is permanent.”
This thought seemed to galvanize her, and Summer’s eyes glinted like steel. “You have to try harder,” she said, voice barely louder than a hiss. “Have you written it all out yet? To make sure you recreate every detail?”
“I’ve done as much as I remember, but you can’t relive an entire night perfectly,” Mitch said. “And I have no way of knowing what variables matter, which ones don’t. For all we know, it’s nothing that I did at all. What if it was something Brody did?”
“What, he went down and got drunk at a crossroads and made a deal?” she asked sarcastically.
“Get him drunk enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d tried it,” Mitch said, moving the fish slightly to center it on the burner.
Summer shook her head, adamant now. “It’s got to be you,” she said. “It happened at your house. You made a wish.”
“Everyone makes wishes,” Mitch said.
“But you made a wish and then you woke up with a kid,” she told him heatedly. “You’re missing something. You have to make the right wish, make it the right way.”
The meat was starting to brown, fat bubbling up in the spread of butter at the bottom of the pan. “I’ve tried.”
“You’ve got to do this, Mitch,” she said, emphatically now. “You have to get him back.”
“I’m trying,” he said, his tone cutting sharply and his voice rising unexpectedly.
From the living room, Matt glanced up, aware for the first time that something might be amiss. Aware of this attention, Mitch pulled his emotions back in, trying to make his face impassive. Next to him, Summer had gone pale and silent.
When he spoke again, his voice was nearly a whisper. He didn’t look at Summer, eyes fixed on dinner as though they were just debating the best way to pan sear a fish. “I really am trying.”
“I know,” she replied, conciliatory now. She sounded sorry, if not for what she’d said, then for everything else. It probably didn’t matter which. “I know that. I just...this is confusing.”
Mitch used a fork, flipping the fish to the other side. Fresh sizzling sounded as the din filled the room. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, wishing that he knew what that meant. Wishing that he knew what he wanted it to mean. “You and me.”
“And Matt,” she added.
Mitch glanced up where Matt was narrating an epic conclusion as he finished piling his kings on top of the queens. He erupting into cheers, falling back into the couch in glee.
“And Matt,” he agreed.